


(Let Me) Fall For You

by poppetawoppet



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot just has a hard time letting his people take care of him okay, Fluff, I have a lot of feelings about this OT3, Multi, and the family they make themselves, snowed in and sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppetawoppet/pseuds/poppetawoppet
Summary: A long time ago letsgostealafandom prompted me with" Eliot's got a cold but insists he does *not* have a cold because he never gets sick, etc"Eliot has a fever, but of course they are stuck in three feet of snow and he lies about the wound he received on the latest con.Parker and Hardison take care of him.Title from the David Cook song of the same name





	(Let Me) Fall For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letsgostealafandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsgostealafandom/gifts).



Day One

The conditions are white-out by the time Hardison backs the Jeep up to the remote house. It’s a welcome sight, because even with the heat on full blast, his toes are freezing.

He jumps out and walks around to the side to help Eliot, who is already half limping to the door.

“Eliot-“

“I’m fine Hardison. I’m gonna take a shower and hope to hell the generators are as good as you say it is.”

Hardison frowns, but doesn’t say anything when Parker puts a hand on his arm. they head to the door, and he shivers as a snowflake makes it’s way under his hood.

The house is warm and it looks like the generator is still working. The shower is already running, so Hardison heads to the kitchen.

“I’m thinking leftover soup and bread?”

“Sounds good. Plus Eliot won’t yell at us for trying to cook,” Parker says. “I’m going to start a fire and bring down some blankets from the attic. We should probably conserve the generator as much as we can. The weather report said at least three feet of snow. We’re gonna be here awhile.”

Hardison nods. He had two generators for this house, but with three feet of snow plus the winds, it would be at least a week, if not two before they got out. The generators would probably last that long, but if it snowed again, and…

He stirs the soup in the pan, listening as the shower stops, and Eliot moves around the bathroom, probably taking care of whatever injuries were left from the last fight. He hadn’t asked for help (not that he does that often,) so everything must be okay.

Eliot’s eyes are slightly glazed when he comes out of the bathroom. He holds up his hands as Parker approaches.

“Mild concussion. Not seeing spots, pain is about a two right now, and no I didn’t take anything for it.”

Parker smiles, “And the wound from Thursday?”

“Healing just fine,” Eliot says. 

Parker looks at Eliot for full minute before turning to the kitchen. “Dinner!”

She runs into the kitchen and kisses Hardison on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner, Alec.”

She turns and stares at Eliot, who mumbles his own thanks.

(It’s Parker’s latest project from Sophie. She’s practicing social niceties and etiquette for their next job. She had declared if she had to do it, then so did the boys. Alec was a natural as his Nana had been firm about please, thank you, sir, and ma’am. Eliot pretended to grumble about it, but ended up being the one who taught them about all the different forks and knives that went with a fancy dinner.)

They eat the soup in silence, listening as the wind begins to pick up outside. 

“If it comes down to it, I have a shovel attachment for the Jeep in the garage,” Eliot says. 

“This is an awfully well-stocked safe house,” Hardison says.

Eliot gives him a half-grin. “This isn’t just a safe-house. Live here half the time when we take vacations. Lived here before Dubenich called me. It’s not quite home, but it’s damn close.”

Hardison and Parker share a look, but don’t say anything. 

“Don’t look like that,” Eliot growls. “Not like you wouldn't figure it out eventually.”

Parker grins. 

“I was wondering why you were so invested in new generators last year,” Hardison says. “We have at least two months worth of power if we run it continuously. Six if we turn it off every night and use the fireplaces for most of the heat.”

“Won’t be here that long. Most of these storms last a couple days. Another couple days to dig out the Jeep, and we can be on the road.”

“Okay,” Parker says. “Do you have your alarm set for every two hours?”

Eliot nods. “I promise.”

“Okay. We probably should get some rest, just in case we can start digging out tomorrow.”

“I’ll stay out here. I’m less likely to fall into a deep sleep.”

They all say goodnight. After changing into loose pants and a t-shirt, and with Parker’s measured breathing next to him, it takes minutes to fall asleep.

Day Three

The second day was blowing winds, so there was a lot of reading, napping, and board games. The third day was clear.

“Outside temperature is just above freezing. It’s a pretty wet snow, so it’s gonna be heavy. We’ll have to clear the front of the garage so the snow blower has somewhere to put the snow. It’s gonna take some time, because we should work a half hour at best. Otherwise, we’ll probably overextend—“

“Blah, blah, blah, we get it, Eliot. I grew up in snow weather. I know the drill.”

Eliot frowns. “Look, I’m just trying to make sure we got a plan, all right? I know how pissy you get without your soda, and I sure as hell didn’t stock any.”

Hardison knew Eliot was baiting him.

“I’ll have you know, I’m a perfectly reasonable human being without an constant intake of sugar.”

Parker snorts. “Okay you two, stop riling each other up, it’s gonna be a long day if all you do is bicker at each other.”

“I do not bicker!” Eliot and Hardison say at the same time.

Parker leans her head to the side as if to say I told you so, and Hardison gets out of his chair.

“Guess we better winterize,” he says.

Once they get outside, the frozen air silences them all. The sun isn’t bright enough to blind them yet, so they get to work clearing a path to the garage. Eliot signals them inside just as Hardison’s arms begin to burn a little, and they spend an hour drying out and resting. 

It takes the whole day to clear a path to the garage and the front section before it begins to darken and they agree to call it quits. 

“Are you okay, Eliot?”

Eliot blinks at Parker, “I’m—“

“I saw you wince when you stretched, so don’t say you’re fine.”

Hardison covers his grin. Ever since Nate and Sophie left, Parker hasn’t let Eliot get away with hiding his injuries like Nate let him do. She had given an awe inspiring lecture on keeping the body in prime condition (that if Hardison let himself think about too much, leads to some very interesting thoughts on ways to keep all three of them in top shape,) and Eliot had given one of his mulish looks before agreeing to let her know when he was fine and when he wasn’t.

“Pulled something shoveling, okay? I’m gonna take half a muscle relaxer and stretch tonight, then see how it is in the morning.”

Parker nods. “Good. Snowblower is a two person operation, right?”

“One to work it and a spotter, yeah.”

“Alec and I will take the first shift, just in case.”

(Parker has also found out that Eliot is very good at taking orders, which has also led to some very interesting fantasies and late night discussions between her and Hardison.)

“Yes, ma’am,” Eliot smiles as he says it.

Day Four

The fourth day goes slower than they expected. Whatever Eliot pulled, he has to bow out of snowblower duties midday. He says it’s probably a strain, or maybe something tore in the last fight, but he’ll be okay.

Hardison isn’t so sure. Eliot looks a little pale, and if he didn’t know any better, Hardison would think Eliot was coming down with something.

“Eliot doesn’t get sick,” Parker whispers to him on their final trip outside. 

“I know, babe,” Hardison says. “But maybe it’s just we don’t see him when he does. You know he gets when we try to take care of him.”

She nods. The Jeep is clear now, and they are attaching the shovel to the front. The plan is to leave before the sun comes up, and be heading westerly down the mountain as it rises.

They have soup for dinner again, and Eliot says he’s going to turn in early, and hopefully be clearer in the morning. Parker eyes the door to Eliot’s bedroom for a long time.

“You’re right. He’s not telling us how sick he is. I don’t like it.”

Hardison pulls her into a hug. “What’s the fiddliest safe you can think of? The one that you have to treat just right to have it open?”

“Wheaton 500. First edition. Why?”

“I think maybe that’s Eliot, babe. We’ve been doing a great job so far, but maybe we tried to force the lock a little too soon? I don’t know, I can’t—“

Parker smiles, one of the ones that says Hardison is the smartest man she knows.

“Of course. The third tumbler always resists a little before giving way. You always know how to figure people out.”

Hardison smiles back, his heart full. It figures he falls for the two most complicated, stubborn, fiddliest locks in the world. 

“Hey, I know people, but you helped me figure out how to pick their locks.”

She smiles and kisses him, then whispers in his ear.

“Yes ma’am, “ Hardison says and follows her into their room.

Day Five

The alarm goes off at five, and Hardison stumbles out of bed. It’s empty, but Parker is likely already dressed and ready to go, debating with Eliot as to how long they would wait before making Hardison get up.

“Alec.”

He turns and there’s something in Parker’s face he doesn’t like.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Eliot.”

Hardison follows her out of the room, and the house is quiet, and she walks into Eliot’s room, and points at the bed.

Eliot is drenched in sweat, his sheets wrapped around him.

“Shit,” Hardison says. “We need to take his temperature.”

“How?”

“Very carefully.”

Hardison walks to the bed, staying out of reach.

“Eliot?”

There’s a moan in response.

“Eliot man, Parker’s coming back to take your temperature, are you going to let her?”

Eliot sits up, and stares through Hardison for a few seconds, then lays back down. Parker comes back. 

“Hey, Eliot, it’s me,” she says ”this won’t take long.”

She manages to put the thermometer in his ear, and Hardison takes Eliot’s hand in his, murmuring that Eliot was safe, and that they were going to take care of him.

The thermometer beeps, and Parker frowns at it.

“101,” she says. “Do you think we can get him into his shower?”

Hardison nods. “Can you run an IV? Not sure we’re going to get fluids in him otherwise.”

“You think he—“

“It’s Eliot. He’s probably got enough medical supplies to stock a doctor’s office in here.”

“Yeah. I’m going to start the shower. Think you can undress him alone?”

“I can try.”

(Somewhere inside Hardison is panicking, but it’s mostly a they were a long way from actual medical help and Parker’s a pretty good field medic, but what if the fever gets worse and—)

He shakes himself. 

“Eliot, we’re going to try a lukewarm shower, try to cool you down a bit first. But I have to undress you, okay?”

He goes slowly, talking to Eliot the whole time. Parker comes back and starts stripping down to her underwear.

“Probably should leave his on, in case he wakes up and freaks out,” she says.

Hardison nods and they trade places.

“Dammit, Eliot!” Parker says.

Hardison turns as he slips off his pants. There’s a large bandage at Eliot’s side, and it’s started to bleed through. He purses his lips.

“Is it infected? Is that why he’s sick?”

Parker peels back the bandage. “Not badly. It probably helped though.”

“We’ll yell at him later.”

She nods. Eliot barely moves as they pick him up, and sit him on the bench in the large walk in shower.

“This is a nice set-up,” Hardison says. “Remind me to tell him that after we yell at him.”

Eliot’s skin gains some color as the water washes over them, and Parker turns it off just as their thumbs begin to wrinkle. They dry him off as best they can and carry him back to the bed. When they set him down, Parker pulls of his wet boxers, and Hardison dries.

(They’ve seen each other naked, briefly, it’s hard not to on certain cons, changing costumes quickly. This isn’t any different.)

Once Parker and Hardison have dry clothes on, she goes searching for the medical supplies. The fever’s down to 100 now. 

She comes back and dumps a bunch of stuff in the chair next to Eliot’s bed.

“Gonna clean the wound first, then IV. Don’t want him to pull it out while stitching him up.”

Hardison nods. He climbs up on the bed, and pulls Eliot’s head into his lap. 

“Hey, El,” he murmurs. “Parker’s gonna take care of you, but it’s gonna hurt. If you’d told her the truth it probably wouldn’t hurt that bad.”

Something akin to sorry passes Eliot’s lips.  
“Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry,” Hardison says, and he gets a ghost of a smile, and something in his heart releases a little bit, knowing Eliot can hear them.

“You looking away?” Parker asks.

“Yep.”

(He’s less squeamish than he used to be. He had to, considering that Parker flung herself out of buildings and Eliot never saw a fight that he couldn’t win despite the odds. )

“You told me the knife wound was fine. You know I don’t like it when you don’t tell the truth, Eliot. You probably pulled the stitches digging snow, and then tried to hide it with excessive bandaging, and forgot to clean it properly didn’t you? Because you’re Eliot Spencer and you can take care of yourself. Except you don’t have to anymore, idiot. So stop.”

“I thought we were yelling later,” Hardison says.

“I’m not yelling. I’m just telling,” Parker says. “You can look now.”

The new bandage is clean and white. Hardison puts Eliot’s head back on the pillow, and grabs a flannel shirt out of his drawer. He slips it on, and Parker sets up the IV.

“There,” Parker says. “You get breakfast. We’ll stay here and make sure the fever stays down.”

Hardison nods. “I’ll grab your beanbag chair, too.”

They replace the IV fluids twice, but the fever is down to 99 by lunch time.

Eliot opens his eyes, and asks for help to the bathroom, so they try actual liquids. Eliot is asleep again by the time his head hits the pillow.

There’s a tense hour and a half after dinner when the fever spikes again, and he and Parker trade off wiping Eliot down with a cool cloth. They check the area around the bandage, but it remains a normal warm, not an infected warm. 

It’s midnight when the fever truly breaks. Eliot wakes up again, smiles at them sleepily, and asks for a drink.

Parker lets him have half a bottle of water and five or six crackers. Eliot yawns.

“Sorry, I just—“

Parker shakes her head. “Go back to sleep.”  
“Don’t go,” he whispers, and closes his eyes.

“Alec,” Parker looks at him, and her eyes are wet.

“I know,” Hardison says thickly. “I know.”

She climbs into the bed and lays next to Eliot, holding his hand. Hardison scoots the chair closer, taking the other hand and laying his head on Eliot’s lap. Parker’s other hand brushes the top of his head, and after a day of tension and worry, he falls asleep to the sound of his people breathing.

Day Six

Eliot blinks. His eyes feels heavy, and his mouth is dry, and he’s warm, but not fever warm. He’s not sure what time it is, but the sun is up. He blinks again to make sure he isn’t dreaming.

Parker is curled into his uninjured side, one hand in his, the other trailing down to Hardison’s shoulder. Hardison-Alec-is holding Eliot’s other hand and is asleep on his lap.

Eliot swallows. He doesn’t remember much of yesterday, except asking them not to leave, and being taken care of. He closes his eyes, letting himself feel the love he denies most of the time.

Parker stirs.

“Hey,” he says.

She blinks at him, and Hardison lifts his head, letting go of Eliot’s hand. Eliot pretends not to feel a sense of loss as they pull away. He watches as Alec and Parker have some sort of silent conversation, and then Parker kisses him.

It’s soft, but firm, and he wants nothing more than to pull her closer but his heart is racing, and he’s still groggy from the fever and lack of food. She pulls away.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she says.

He nods, wordlessly. He can’t look at Hardison, or else—

“Hey,” Hardison says.

“Alec, I, uh—“ Eliot’s stopped because there’s something in his eyes, and he’s leaning forward and- _oh_.

This kiss is softer, more questioning, and Eliot clasps his hands in the sheets, protesting softly when Hardison pulls away.

“You should eat something,” Parker says.

Eliot nods.

(They take care of him the whole day. They don’t kiss him again, but they never stop touching him, and Eliot can barely contain the joy bubbling out of him, and wonders if maybe this is just a fever dream, but they kiss him goodnight, and curl up in bed with him, and if he holds them a little tightly when he falls asleep, it’s because the pain in his side makes it real.)

Day Seven

He wakes up without them.

He sits up in his bed, and he feels almost normal. He shuffles out into the main room, and Parker and Hardison are making microwave oatmeal, which is better than the sugary cereal he was expecting.

“Hey,” Parker says.

“Hey.”

Hardison nods at him, and Eliot nods back. He sits at the counter, and spoons his oatmeal methodically to feed himself. He has a million questions, but can’t bring himself to ask.

(They were just worried, and the tension had to be relieved somehow. The kisses didn’t mean anything.)

Eliot sits the bowl down.

“You okay, El?” Hardison asks.

Eliot nods, and walks over to him. He’s a goddamn retrieval specialist, and he’s going to retrieve his people.

He kisses Hardison, and Parker laughs, and Hardison is kissing back, hands reaching up to Eliot’s hair. Eliot pulls away and puts his forehead against the other man’s.

“Alec—“

There’s a tap on his shoulder, and he turns to Parker, and she’s kissing him again, and he pulls her closer like he’s always wanted to , and he’s practically sitting on Hardison, wedged between them as their hands gently roam across his body.

Parker pulls away. “You know, you probably should spend at least another day in bed. Just in case. Take it easy. Right, Alec?”

“Definitely. Although, a little exercise might do some good don’t you think?”

Parker nods,” I’m sure you can think of something, right Eliot?”

Eliot grins as they pull him towards his bedroom. 

“Yes ma’am.”

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes concerning shoveling snow, how to treat fevers, and elsewhere come from me writing this in one sitting and not being bothered to be completely accurate


End file.
